


These Two Hearts

by TenRoseForeverandever



Series: These Two Hearts [3]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-09
Updated: 2015-01-15
Packaged: 2018-03-06 21:11:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3148670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TenRoseForeverandever/pseuds/TenRoseForeverandever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Left on Bad Wolf Bay, in the aftermath of defeating Davros on the Crucible in “Journey’s End”, the Metacrisis Doctor and Rose struggle to come to terms with their situation. The Doctor’s heart remains true to Rose, but hers seems bound to the Time Lord in their original universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this was supposed to be a Christmas story… and then it became a New Year’s story… and now… well, it’s never too late, I suppose. But one of my resolutions for this year was to write more frequently and conscientiously and get some of my many, many WIPs completed. So, although this is very angsty and melodramatic, it is at least COMPLETE! Yay! 
> 
> Part of my “These Two Hearts” series Takes place prior to “The Decision” and “You Bring Me to My Knees” (both also part of my Domestic Bliss Series.) The story assumes that Rose and the Doctor were intimately involved prior to the events of Doomsday, and had formed a telepathic bond.

 

New Year’s Eve; pouring rain; standing on the pavement outside Rose’s flat; drenched to the bone.

**17 days, 5 hours, 12 minutes, and 43 seconds since they had been left on Bad Wolf Bay.**

**\-------**

She stared up at him, a look burdened with betrayal. He felt her release his hand but not his eyes: she looked at him with hurt and distrust and misery. Then her eyes dropped from his and numb with pain and grief and anger, she abruptly turned and walked away from him, following her mother, never turning back.

**17 days, 5 hours, 11 minutes, and 19 seconds since she last looked him in the eye.**

**\-------**

“Well hurry up then!” Jackie’s shrill tones, stung like the cold wind as they reached his ears. He could see her shaking her head in derision, beckoning him with an outstretched arm. And there was nowhere else to go. Not that he wanted to go anywhere Rose wasn’t, even if it meant that he would have to contend with Jackie as well. He followed the two women away from the bleak beach toward the little village further inland.

Jackie led them to a small inn. “We’ll jus’ have to stay ‘ere again. Jus’ like the last time! At least we had our own car that time.” She pierced him with an icy glare. “You’d think with there bein’ two of ya, three if you count that Donna woman, ya’d ‘ave been able to land us closer to home this time!”

His head drooped. “’M sorry, Jackie. I…”

“Oh, God! Oh, no, sweetheart,” she blurted out, apparently repenting her thoughtless comment. She linked her arm through his, and she attempted to sooth him, awkwardly patting his hand. “I’m sorry. I _really_ am! It’s just been a long day.”

He huffed in response: a long day indeed. He ached for the hum of the TARDIS in his empty mind as much as he longed for the touch of Rose’s hand, and the warm, golden tendrils of their bond, forged in the days just before he lost her at Canary Wharf. Somehow the bond had remained through the metacrisis, dormant, tucked away safe in his mind, a beacon of hope and comfort, patiently waiting for Rose.

“C’mon, we’ll bunk ‘ere for the night, and take a cab into Oslo in the mornin’. Pete says he’s sendin’ the zeppelin for us straight away.” Jackie tugged him through the doors of the inn. “C’mon Rose! In you come. Mind you, those airships are so bleedin’ slow it could be ages before…”

He allowed the sound of Jackie’s voice to fade into the background, as he turned to look at Rose. Her lips were pressed tightly together, her eyes staring blankly ahead, deadened. He knew that expression. He was the expert at that expression: a mask; a façade; a barrier to ensure that no emotion could get in and no emotion could get out. The ultimate defense against hurt… except that it wasn’t. Especially not for Rose.

“Are either of you actually listening to me? Honestly, ya’d think I jus’ liked to hear the sound of my own voice. And no smart remarks outta you, Missy,” she addressed Rose. “Now, two rooms, yeah? I’ll take one, and you two…” She left the suggestion hanging expectantly in the air.

“Weeell…” he began, rubbing the back of his neck in insecurity.

At the same time, Rose’s hoarse voice crackled quietly in the air, barely a whisper. “I want my own room.”

“Are you sure, sweetheart? The Doctor–”

“That’s not the Doctor. _My_ Doctor is in _my_ universe. This is a copy, a clone.” Her words were cold, hostile.

“Don’t be ridiculous! Jus’ look at ‘im! Course ‘e’s the Doctor. The way ‘e looks at you. ‘E’s the same man, no question. Rose? Love?”

“He’s not the Doctor.”

**17 days, 4 hours, 52 minutes, 42 seconds since she linked the name “Doctor” to him in any way.**

**\-------**

Two days later, they arrived at Pete and Jackie’s mansion, a new one. Pete had sold the old property and built a new home in a secluded spot on the outskirts of London, an easy commute to Torchwood. New home; new start; new memories. The Doctor was offered a small apartment on the upper floor of the building which he accepted with gratitude. He would still dine with the family, but otherwise he could keep as private as he wished.

Rose spent that night at the mansion, in her old bedroom, but slept at her London flat every day after that. She rose early that first morning and with single-minded determination, against her parents’ remonstrations that she needed to take time to recuperate from the stresses that she had endured over the past year, she insisted that she go back to work on the Dimension Cannon immediately.

“I’m gettin’ back to him. I did it before. I’ll do it again.” The Doctor listened to her firm resolve from behind the doorway to the kitchen. His single heart clenched in anguish at her words. She would never be able to do it again: the cracks between the universes were healed… permanently. He placed a hand on the door, ready to enter, to tell her not to hope for that impossibility.

Pete’s exasperated voice stopped him: “Rose… love… I’ve had a look at all the readings. They all suggest that the pathways between our universes are sealed… for good… ever since the stars came back. The only reason it ever worked before was that the walls were breaking down. Our universe was dying.”

“I’ll find a way. I’ll get back to the Doctor.”

“You saved us all, love. But there’s no going back. I’m sorry.”

“I’ll find a way,” she repeated staunchly.

The Doctor entered the kitchen, his gob ready to spout off all of the scientific data that would support Pete’s argument. But one look at Rose’s beautiful, forlorn face and the only words that left his tongue were: “I can help. We’ll find a way.” He ignored Pete’s groan of frustration.

“You’ll help me? Seriously?” She refused to look at him. She spread butter over her toast.

The bright grin he forced on his face felt tight, strained. “Course I will! Who better? Genius me!” If it would make her happy, he would do anything. And maybe, in time, she would learn that he was the same man, had the same feelings.

“Right… well, that’d be great. Yeah… thanks for that. I’ll be off! See you there. Pete will see that you get clearance.”

“ _You_ could take him in, y’know?” Pete spoke up, winking at the Doctor.

“No. I need to get started on the cannon right away, not waste my morning runnin’ around a paper trail with _him_.” She stuffed the last piece of toast in her mouth, swiped her keys off the counter, and walked out.

**14 days; 8 hours; 53 minutes (fuck the seconds! Too many seconds.) since she could stand to be in the same room as him for more than a minute.**

**\-------**

He took the name James Wilfred Noble as his alias, but everyone called him “Doctor”. Everyone but Rose.

They made no progress with the cannon. Of course they didn’t. But he pretended for her. He interpreted data for her, pointed her in directions that he thought maybe-possibly-might work, but not really. Nothing would. Ever.

She never allowed him to speak to her directly: emails only. Not even texts: far too personal. Although he tried to make the emails a little more friendly: smilies; winkies; other silly emoticons. And sometimes he would leave data on her desk with a hand-written note: “I miss you,” or “We should go for chips sometime,” or “Please, Rose, we need to talk.” And always signed “James”.

**8 days; 3 hours; 35 minutes since she left his notes crumpled on his desk.**

**\-------**

He played on the floor of the television room with Tony. It hurt when he looked into that little boy’s eyes, so like Rose’s, and saw the mischief and sense of adventure there that he used to love seeing in her eyes. And the adoration and awe… oh, more of a hero thing from the three-year-old, but still, it evoked memories of the way Rose had looked at him, back on the TARDIS, before this Davros-damned metacrisis. Before she realized that she was going to be stuck with a defective copy.

“Right then, Tony,” Jackie’s voice rang from the doorway, “time for a bath. And then you can hang your stocking, and get to bed. Santa won’t come if you aren’t in bed and sound asleep, young man.”

Tony pouted. “But I’m pwayin’ with Doctah…” he whinged, frowning at his Mum.

“Tony,” she warned, expression stern.

“How about…” the Doctor piped up, “what d’ya say _I_ give you your bath and after you’ve hung your stocking, I’ll tell you a bedtime story?”

The little boy’s eyes lit up with glee. “A stowy ‘bout Wose and you and the daweks?”

“Sure thing!” He couldn’t help but smile as the littlest Tyler took his hand and dragged him along the hallway. “C’mon Doctah! Wun!”

Several hours later, after Tony was asleep, Jackie met him in the hall. “Thanks for that. It would ‘ave been holy hell and tantrums if you ‘adn’t offered to ‘elp out. I wish I’d ‘ad you around when Rose was that age. Honestly, the lungs on that one! A right little madam! Stubborn she was… She still is, mind, but–” She clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide with apologetic distress. “Oh, Doctor,” she spoke with gentle sincerity, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I don’t think what I’m sayin’ half the time. I keep sayin’… I didn’t mean to… I can’t imagine what this has been like for you.”

He shook his head in response, running a hand down his face in a gesture of fatigue. “It’s alright, Jackie. I’m a big boy.”

“’Ave you been gettin’ enough sleep, then?” She peered at him in a motherly way, and reached out to place the back of her hand against his forehead. “You’re lookin’ right peaky, you are. And I don’t like the look of those dark circles under your eyes.”

“Just adjusting to this new body. Not used to sleeping much, me. Certainly not as much as I need to now.”

“An’ you jus’ pick at your food. You need to eat, Doctor. Skinny bloke like you: not much to fall back on, yeah. You’ll get sick, you will. You need to take better care of yourself.”

“Don’t worry about me, Jackie.”

“Of course I’ll worry about you! And Rose,” she assured him candidly, patting him on the cheek. “You’re family, and that’s my job: to worry.”

Early the next morning, he found himself helping Tony to unwrap his many gifts, as Jackie and Pete looked on. Immersed in the joys of watching the little boy play with the boxes as much as with their contents, they didn’t hear Rose come in.

“Well, isn’t this a cozy little family gatherin’?” She didn’t bother to conceal the snide tone in her voice.

“Sweetheart!” Jackie gushed. “Merry Christmas! Tony couldn’t wait to find out what Santa brought for him. Come on, then! There’s plenty under the tree for you, too!”

“Merry Christmas, Love!” Pete called out.

Rose stood frozen in the entry, eyes flickering nervously to where the Doctor sat on the floor beside the Christmas tree. “I can… come back, later…” she stammered.

“Well, I never ‘eard the like! You get in ‘ere, right now, Rose Marion Tyler.”

“WOSE!” Tony yelled, scrambling out of a huge box, and running to wrap his arms around his sister’s legs. He reached up to grab her arm. “Come see all the fings! Santa bwought me a snonic scwewdwiver!” He thrust the little light-up toy, that the Doctor had cobbled together, towards Rose’s face.

“I…I… have things… erm… presents in the car.”

“I’ll get them,” the Doctor announced, seizing an opportunity to put Rose at ease. “You come and sit. Keys?”

“The boot’s popped already.” She kept her eyes averted from him and allowed Tony to drag her into the living room. “So, Little Man, show me all these wonderful things that Santa brought.”

The voices faded away as he trudged outside to Rose’s car, leaving him to his thoughts as he gathered the presents in his arms. Maybe today he could make some progress with Rose. Perhaps she would be willing to speak with him. Maybe she would even accept his little gift, silly though it was, and truly see it for what it represented. Maybe she would finally realize that despite a few physical changes, he really was the same man as the Time Lord. Maybe she saw already. Maybe that was the problem.

She never looked at him when he brought the gifts in. She never acknowledged his presence other than to pointedly leave the room while he was there. So, hopes for reconciliation crushed, he quietly left the Tylers to celebrate Christmas on their own and made his way up to his rooms.

An hour later, he found himself cursing his superior Time Lord senses that seemed to have been left unaffected by the changes in his biology: he could hear Jackie arguing with Rose from the other end of the building as clearly as though she was in the room next door.

“W’at the ‘ell is this?” Jackie barked. “In the bin? Unopened?”

He couldn’t make out Rose’s reply, but it didn’t require his superior intellect to determine that Rose had thrown away his gift to her.

“You don’t deserve that man. You’re bein’ a right little cow, Rose Tyler.”

“I don’t want _that_ _man_. I don’t want his gifts. I don’t want his help. I don’t want anythin’ to do with him! I _want_ the Doctor!”

There was a brief pause before Jackie responded. “I don’t think I know who you are anymore. The Rose I know would never treat anyone the way you’ve been treatin’ the Doctor. Yes, ‘ _the Doctor_ ’! Don’t you give me that look! ‘E’s lost absolutely everythin’! Everythin’, Rose: that daft spaceship of ‘is; ‘is entire universe, gone; all ‘is people; and now, ‘e’s lost you too. And as for that last, good riddance, I say! Better off without ya! Maybe ‘e’ll have the sense to go out there and find someone else… someone who actually gives a damn!”

There was a palpably hostile silence that seemed to carry on interminably. And then, suddenly, the anger-charged air was rent with Tony’s despairing cries of “Mama” and “Wose” as he reacted to the rage that the two women were projecting at one another.

“Look, I’m leavin’! Give me that gift back! Now!” Rose demanded. Then her voice softened, “’M sorry, Tony. You have fun playin’ with all those toys, yeah. I’ll see you soon, Little Man.” A few moments later, doors opened and closed, and Rose’s car could be heard leaving the grounds.

The Doctor despairingly packed his meagre belongings into a rucksack, and left a note to Jackie and Pete thanking them for inviting him into their home, but explaining that he didn’t want to be responsible for tearing the family apart.

He left by a rear entrance, hopping into the little car he had purchased with his few days’ wages from his work at Torchwood.

**6 days; 11 hours; 34 minutes since he decided to leave the Tyler mansion for good.**

**\-------**

The next few days he was living rough. He had stopped going in to work at Torchwood. He ate little, could afford little, and didn’t care much anyway. He slept, when he could, in the back of his car, burrowed under two ragged blankets. It wasn’t nearly enough to stave off the biting chill of the winter air. He parked the car by a park close to Rose’s flat. He just wanted to keep her close, despite everything that she had said. He had promised the “real” Doctor that he would never give up on her. And he never would. He loved her and was bound to her for as long as he lived. He didn’t think that would be too long…

He was empty inside; isolated; he had never felt more alone or more vulnerable. He began to get feverish and achy. Lack of sleep and poor eating habits over the few weeks in this body, already weakened with regeneration sickness, had taken their toll on his developing immune system. Coughs wracked his body as he huddled in his car, and he knew his temperature was dangerously high. He drifted in and out of consciousness, tormented with nightmares from his past.

He knew he didn’t deserve any better: born in battle; full of blood, anger, and revenge. This was his punishment for all those crimes that he had committed: the genocide of his own people; the deaths of countless others affected by his actions over the years; and most recently, the slaughter of Davros’ army of Daleks on the Crucible, fulfilling Caan’s prophecy. It seemed that this universe was being no more forgiving to him than the last one had been.

All he had left was the piece of TARDIS coral bequeathed to him by the Time Lord. He absently fingered the little piece of home kept snug and safe in his pocket. He could have started growing her. Then, in just a few years, he could have been off, free to travel this new universe: new everything to explore! But without Rose by his side… what was the point. He had wanted this TARDIS to be theirs, together.

He had to see her one last time. To let her know that she was loved… so loved. By him. By the Time Lord. No one could be more loved than she was, in either universe. She needed to know.

And he needed her to look after the TARDIS coral; to grow it if she could; it might, eventually, even get her back to the prime universe, to the Time Lord, to his TARDIS, drawn to it by an indefinable bond of Mother to Daughter. Not likely. But, it would be her best hope.

**0 days; 0 hours; 5 minutes since he decided to give Rose the TARDIS coral to look after. She would treat her with the respect she deserved.**

**\-------**

And so here he stood. New Year’s Eve; pouring rain; standing on the pavement outside Rose’s flat, drenched to the bone; shivering with fever; barely able to keep upright.

Dazed, his legs buckling under him, darkness descending around him like a shroud, a golden vision of her face swirled before him. “Oh, God! My Doctor! Please… NO!”

**0 days; 0 hours; 0 minutes; no more seconds. He’d lived too long…**


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A time to heal for both the Doctor and Rose...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that the "Tentoo / Rose after Bad Wolf Bay" trope has been done hundreds of times. I just feel that I need to write it on my own terms sometimes... and I might as well share. Please forgive my lack of originality...  
> So on with the angst... and a good dose of fluff, too!  
> Part 2 of 2

**Chapter 2**

Her warmth surrounded him, delved deep into his mind, seeking, seeking… _My Doctor._ Her thoughts hummed through his, caressing him, swirling golden. He opened his mind to her, trusting her, craving her. Then, their bond flared to life, stimulated from its stasis by their mutual yearning. A sense of peace washed over him, a feeling of belonging and fulfilment that had been missing for… weeell, for a while now. It was Rose. It was home.

**0 days; 0 hours; 0 minutes; 0 seconds: the beginning of forever.**

**\-------**

His eyelashes fluttered over gritty eyes, and even the pale light was too painful for him to endure. He coughed, the jarring motion sending stabbing pain into his skull above his eyes. His mouth, parched from disuse, opened to release a guttural sound of protest. Then a gentle breath on his face, the press of pillowy lips against his forehead, and familiar fingers carding through his hair compelled the agony to subside to a dull, throbbing ache. Despite his desperation to see her face, he decided to keep his eyes shut.

“Shhhh,” her voice crooned, “I’ll bring some tea… not too strong, yeah, but full of all those tannins and free radicals that you’re always goin’ on about.”

As he felt her move to leave his side, he panicked, desperately scrabbling at her with numb arms. His heart was pounding out of his chest in anxiety, his lungs gasping for air, sending him into another fit of convulsive coughs. And then their bond flared to life in his mind and she was within him, all rosy and golden and welcoming. _‘M right here. Never gonna leave ya. Jus’ goin’ to get you that tea. But I’ll stay in here_ , she wound around his frightened thoughts, calming him, _in your big ol’ Time Lord brain_.

The tea was warm and milky and sweet and she fed it to him patiently from a spoon. And when he had finished it all, he felt himself sinking into the softness of the bed and the pillows, contented and sleepy. He reached out to stroke her mind before he drifted back to unconsciousness.

**5 days; 16 hours; 31 minutes; 23 seconds since the beginning of forever.**

**\-------**

The next time he awoke, he was able to open his eyes without pain. Her golden head was the first thing he saw, slumped over her arms, on the side of his bed. A gentle touch of their bond told him that she was asleep. In her unguarded state, he could sense her lingering worry, and roiling guilt. He pulled back, unwilling to intrude. They would have plenty of time to talk things over later.

He tried to touch her hair and found his fingers stiff, and restrained. Looking around him, he realized that he was hooked up to a variety of monitors with wires and tubes. And an I.V. drip: that was what kept his hand from moving.

“You’re awake, are ya?” Pete’s voice startled him slightly.

“I am.” He tried to smile, but it took a lot of effort. He looked around him and realized he wasn’t in a hospital. “Where am I?”

“Rose’s flat. Her bedroom. She refused to allow you to be taken anywhere else. Wanted to look after you herself.” He shook his head in something akin to disbelief or awe. “Had Torchwood bring all the equipment here! And she’s been doing it all, ‘round the clock. She’s a force to be reckoned with, no doubt about it,” he chuckled fondly.

“That she certainly is!” The Doctor’s smile came more easily this time.

“Can I get you anything?”

“I wouldn’t turn down a cuppa. And maybe… I think I might like to sit up.”

Rose was stirring by the time Pete came back with the tea: a full pot with two mugs. Her eyes locked onto the Doctor’s, conflicting emotions whirling in her expression. He smiled supportively at her, and wiggled his bound fingers, inviting her to hold his hand. With a grin, she did, and he released an internal sigh of relief at her touch.

It took several tries to get him sitting upright, as vertigo and nausea took their toll, but soon he was comfortably propped with several fluffy pillows.

“You sure had us worried.” Pete handed him his mug of tea which he accepted with a weak and shaking hand. Rose hovered anxiously, ready to assist if she was needed.

“Yeah, sorry, ‘bout that,” he winced apologetically.

“You seem to be mostly out of the woods now, anyway. Jus’ take it easy, yeah. Don’t rush it.”

He nodded grimly in agreement.

“If you’re up to it, Jackie would probably like to see you… Mind, I don’t think the entire armed forces of Great Britain could keep her away once she gets the news that you’re properly awake, whether you feel up to it or not. I’ll try to call ahead to give you fair warning, though.”

“Just as long as she doesn’t slap me for scaring her to death or something,” the Doctor grinned cheekily.

“No guarantees, mate,” Pete quipped back. “But for now, I’ll leave you two,” he gestured meaningfully between the Doctor and Rose, “to spend some time alone, yeah?”

“Thanks, Dad!” Rose spoke up as Pete left the room.

She didn’t look at the Doctor for several long moments, fiddling with the tea cozy and straightening the covers on the bed. He reached out to her through their bond, a tender touch to soothe her fractious thoughts. She turned to him, her eyes brimming with unshed tears, and sucked in her bottom lip nervously.

“C’mon, up here, you.” He patted the bed beside his free hand. “There’s oodles of room. Oh, I quite like that word, ‘oodles’. Never used that one before! Brilliant word, though! ‘Oodles’! Anyway, like I said, oodles of space, Rose Tyler. And I would very much like to have all that space occupied by you.”

**6 days; 2 hours; 15 minutes; 1 second since the beginning of forever. The first of oodles of snuggles with one Rose Tyler.**

**\-------**

“Ewww, bedside manner of a Cramulian Trofang, that one!” The Doctor curled his lip as Dr. Owen Harper left the room. “Still, he agreed to take out the I.V. and the…” he gestured self-consciously to his groin.

“The catheter?” Rose smirked at him.

“Yeah, that.”

“Well, you can start walkin’ around more easily now then. You could even have a bath and freshen up. Shave, if you like.”

“Oi! Rose Tyler, are you saying I smell bad? And I thought you quite liked the scruff! I saw your thoughts: you thought it was… sexy.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, earning him a soft smack on the arm.”

“Shut up! It _is_ sexy.” She reached up to scratch his beard gently and planted a chaste kiss at the corner of his mouth. “But it _is_ getting a little out of control. I quite like the short, stubbly look, though. And, Doctor, you _could_ use a shower. You were in a right state when I found you, and I did my best, but…”

“Say no more! Bath time, it is!”

**7 days; 14 hours; 28 minutes; 58 seconds since the beginning of forever and, he hoped, the first of many hair washes and back scrubs courtesy Rose Tyler.**

**\-------**

They sat across from one another at Rose’s tiny kitchen table that evening, both in their jimjams, as the Doctor devoured the hot, rich soup that she had made for him.

“Slow down, Doctor,” she placed hand over his. “You’ll make yourself sick.”

“Oh, but this is soooo good, Rose,” he enthused around a soup-dipped piece of soft bread. “Brilliant! Your cooking skills have improved!”

“Oi…! Wait, that _was_ supposed to be some kind of back-handed compliment, wasn’t it?”

He smirked at her in response. “Weeeell, Rose, no offense, but after that time you basically poisoned me with that roobig-root stew, I have to admit that I preferred to do the cooking.”

She began to laugh out loud, and he closed his eyes just so he could let the precious sound wash over him. “You broke out in all those green hives! And I had to… Doctor? You alright, then, mate?” Her laughing had stopped.

“Oh, better than, Rose.” He opened his eyes and smiled at her, sending her his love through the bond. “It’s been a very, very, extremely long time since I heard you laugh. I never thought I would ever hear that sound again.”

“Oh…”

“Rose…”

“I’m sorry. I am. I’m so sorry…” She stood up abruptly, knocking the table and sloshing the soup out of the bowls. “Oh, God! Now look what I’ve done! I’ve ruined supper and… and… ruined… well, everything…” Tears rushed over her cheeks in torrents.

He stood up, moving toward her, and suddenly she propelled herself into his outstretched arms, tucking her nose into the crook of his neck, burrowing herself into him. His hands wrapped around her back and tugged her even closer, pressing her to him until her heaving sobs settled into sporadic snuffles and hiccoughs. He guided her over to the sofa, where they reclined, she sitting between his legs with her back against him and he with his arms coiled protectively around her.

They remained quiet for several long moments, before Rose nervously broke the intimate silence. “On… on… on Christmas day…” she stammered out, “I… erm… Anyway, Mum and me, we had a row. She said things to me…”

He nodded quietly into her hair. “I heard,” he whispered.

“Oh…” She gulped back a huge sob. “What she said… she was right.”

“No.”

“How can you say that? It was true… all of it! I was being… God I don’t know where to start.”

“She was wrong…”

She huffed through her nose in response, with a negative twitch of her head.

“She said that I’d be better off without you.”

She turned herself to look at him, eyes glistening and sad.

“Now, clearly, Rose Tyler, if these last few weeks have taught us anything, it’s that I cannot survive without you. I need you.”

She was now sitting sidewise in his lap, her head pressed against his throbbing heart. “When I left the mansion, I drove for about five minutes before I realized I had made a wrong turn. I was so angry at her, at me…, at you… Guess I wasn’t payin’ attention.”

He stroked her back and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“Anyway, I pulled over. And I saw the gift on the seat beside me… your gift. I had thrown it away… before. Never opened it. Mum was furious.”

He chuckled quietly, stroking her cheek with his thumb. “So I gathered. She was on quite a roll, was Jackie.”

“Yeah, that’s my Mum! Can’t believe I didn’t get a smack.” He felt the muscles of her cheek tremble into a little smile under his caress. She picked up his other hand in both her own, and played with the fingers absently as she began to speak again. “I opened it, the gift. Oh, Doctor!” She started to cry again.

“Shhhh.” He cradled her against him, rocking slightly, the movement soothing to both of them. He reached out with his mind to touch their bond, but she nudged him away.

“I need to _say_ all this first, Doctor. The bond, it muddles things.”

“Rose, it makes things clear.”

“For you, yeah, but… these are things I need to say. Out loud. The human way. Then we can share _your_ way, Time Lord. Alright? Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

She sat up, reached around her neck, and pulled a necklace out from under her tank top. “I’ve never taken it off since that day. Drove straight back to Mum’s, but you were already gone. I looked for you _everywhere!_ Dad kept an eye on the airports, in case you left the country. He had Torchwood operatives across the world on the look-out.”

He was stunned. He had never intended to cause them so much worry. But, of course they would have worried... “It was time to leave. My presence was… weeeell, you know me: trouble does tend to follow. And it seems this new body is no different. I didn’t want to hurt you or your family anymore.”

“If I hadn’t found you when I did… God, Doctor, I don’t think I could’ve lived with myself.”

He released a humourless chuckle, and firmly gripping her chin, turned her face up toward him rather more roughly than he had intended, forcing her to meet his troubled gaze. “Don’t. Say. That.”

“Doctor…”

“Just… just don’t.”

“So, it’s alright for you to give up on life, but not me? Hypocrite!” She stood up from his lap and flopped down angrily at the opposite end of the sofa from him.

He ran a hand through his hair, and launched himself from the sofa. He paced the room a few times, desperate for something to tinker with, something to do. He could feel her eyes following his every movement. Finally, he stormed into the kitchen, feeling a sense of order settle into his mind as he went through the process of making tea. It wasn’t as complex as a TARDIS console, but it kept his hands busy and his mind regulated: measuring out the tea; boiling the water; preheating the pot; pouring the water in; setting the timer for the correct brewing time.

As he stood leaning over the counter waiting for the tea to steep, he felt her small hand on his arm, and a comforting touch of their bond. “May I have a cup too?”

“Of course.”

“We’ve both changed… a lot.”

“Bit of an understatement, that. New, new, new body…”

“I don’t just mean _that_. We’ve both been through a lot, yeah, over the last three years. I’m sure you had some pretty intense adventures; maybe things that changed you. I _know_ I’ve changed: I’ve grown up. ‘Course, hard to tell, the way I’ve been carryin’ on. But I’m not just a little shop-girl off the estate anymore. I finished my A-levels and I’ve been goin’ to Uni. I have my own team at Torchwood. And I’ve seen… so many things, horrible things…” She rolled her eyes closed, blinking back more tears.

“You’re still you.”

“And you… you’re still the same man, yeah. I knew… I did! It jus’ hurt so much. After everything…”

She held out an open hand toward him. In her palm was nestled the necklace he had given her for Christmas: a cheap trinket, purchased at one of those little shops that specialized in selling accessories to silly preteen girls (and, apparently, 906-year-old mostly-Time Lords.) It was two necklaces in one: two little silvery hearts, magnetically attached to one another, each with the letters “BFF” engraved below an imitation pink gem. Once separated, each heart had its own chain.

He traced the outline of the dual pendant. Picking it up he pulled the two hearts apart, and spreading the chain, placed it reverently around Rose’s neck. “I may only have one heart now, Rose. But as long as I have yours too…” He placed the other necklace over his own head, and gestured between their chests: “Weeell… with _these_ two hearts, I’ll be complete.”

“Blimey!” she uttered breathily. He found himself drowning in her watery gaze, and seconds later her lips were crushed against his, wet and salty with her tears. Passionate longing surged through their bond as they stumbled, entangled in their embrace, back toward the sofa.

The tea was left forgotten on the counter.

**7 days; 19 hours; 4 minutes; and 56 seconds since the beginning of forever. The first time his new, new, new body made love to Rose. Now, _this,_ he thought, was what it meant to truly be complete.**

**\-------**

“Do you feel that, Rose? That little tingling just in the back of your mind?”

“Yeah… I think so… maybe… Err, no, not as such…”

“Right _there_ , Rose.” His voice carried a hint of desperate impatience as he tapped a spot on the back of her head.

“Alright, then! Gimme a mo’! This is all new to me.”

He took a repentant step back.

“Look, I know you want this to happen, but–”

“I wanted her to be ours, together.”

“It’ll come, Doctor. I was able to speak to her Mum. So eventually…”

“You’re probably right…” He shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his hoodie and walked dejectedly away toward the kitchen. Elated as he was to sense the first murmurs of the baby TARDIS, he was devastated that Rose was unable to sense her too. With the changes that Bad Wolf had imposed on her mind, the heightened telepathic abilities, he had thought…

“I’m sorry you’re disappointed.”

He stopped when he heard her trot to catch up to him and pulled his hands from his pockets, offering one of them for Rose to take.

She squeezed it in reassurance. “I’ll do my best, I promise. Okay?”

He nodded glumly.

“And I’ll love her, just the same. I mean, look at her! What’s not to love?” She turned back to observe the newly shatterfried TARDIS coral, glowing golden from within a small glass container filled with a nutrient bath. It shuddered for a moment, the golden light pulsing brilliantly, and the Doctor felt a surge of energy through his connection with the little coral.

Rose gasped. “Oi! Was that you? No… it’s her! I can feel her!” she squealed.

He found himself flung around, as Rose tugged him into an ecstatic dance of joy. “Ha!” he chirped, “I knew you could do it! Never doubted it for a second… weeell, maybe for one second… weeell, for a minute. But only for a–” Whatever pointless words he thought would spout out of his gob next were smothered by Rose’s mouth pressing over his, and her hands in his hair, drawing him enthusiastically ever closer against her body.

**24 days, 16 hours; 5 minutes; 46 seconds since the beginning of forever: a forever that would most assuredly include the Doctor and Rose Tyler in the TARDIS ( _their_ TARDIS), just as it should be!**

**Author's Note:**

> Part 1 of 2… so please don’t kill me…


End file.
